Sunday, March 27, 2011

My fat donkey is, in my view, a strange creature. When first I met him, I admit I didn't know what to make of him. Devlin found him intriguing... I found him terrifying. I mean, something had obviously gone horribly wrong with this foal. But it turns out he was in fact a different species, and they are more or less expected to look like that.

I say less, because as you may have guessed from his name, my fat donkey is... not quite normal proportions.

Donkey does run around quite a bit. He is never contained (mainly because he really, really doesn't care for it, and starts banging things... I must try this technique myself sometime). His excess plumnicity can best be attributed to the old horses. He cleans up the mush that Jeanie drops onto the feed mat as she eats and is beneath her to consume. Since she gets fed three times a day, the humans figure he is getting quite a lot of calories.

Mother had tried to get him more exercise by teaching him to drive. Donkey lacks motivation. She suggested a grazing muzzle to his owners. They were reluctant. Mother let donkey's weight problems slide away from her mind. Mother would weight tape him at his heartgirth and then around his brood gelding belly. His brood belly has him weighing 600lbs... obviously not accurate, but not at all reassuring.

Yesterday, while Mother and the Aunts were seeding the pastures, she happened to hunker down to donkey level and looked at his topline. Unlike horses, donkeys ordinarily have level toplines... my fat donkey, who had always been level in his pre-porcine prime, was developing a dip. A smidge of a sway. Mother was alarmed. Donkey isn't very old... only a year or two older than I am.

The seriousness of donkey's weight was brought to the forefront. Donkeys often live to ridiculous ages, but it seems unlikely Donkey would have half of that at the rate he was going. A grazing muzzle will be procured for him. Mother took him for a walk along a portion of my postal route, which the wee donk accepted with zeal and enthusiasm (I think he just remembered where the sheep pastures were, as he had been turned out on them many years ago.) He was enthusiastic on the route home as well, and was not really even huffing by the top of the hill. How can that be?

Mother also has a stealth driving plan. Since the donk is eager and happy to march homeward, she will put the driving lines on him for the walk back, and get more done with his driving training that way, as he will have forward momentum. This could all prove very interesting.

Mother said she was so proud of donkey's attitude on his walk, she even called him by his real name as he got some mid-walk scritchings.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

We "got through" a little weather today. With some not so little hail balls. Hail in Ohio is different from hail in North Dakota. In North Dakota, one just humped his back, hunkered down, and dealt with it. You had the freedom to look for a low spot or windbreak, if they were available in your current pasture.

In Ohio, I admit, I do not have to just hunker down and take it. I can stay dry, whether in the barn itself or in the run in shed. But hail is LOUD in both those places, particularly the steel roofed run in. And as the smallness of the area is magnified by the roar of weather outside, I get a little... claustrophobic?

I think I almost prefer North Dakota hail. Really, if the hail balls could be Hilton Herballs, that would be the best scenario of all!

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Mother was up to visit me on Saturday. She worked on my feet, with frequent pauses to sit down and rest. After the last one, she prostrated herself on the chaise. Um, my feet aren't that difficult. She fed me and put me back out with my friends.

Sunday, Mother and Aunt Nancy stopped up and fed me and the rest of the red mare herd some cookies and Herballs. Mother looked decidedly pale that day, too.

I must look into getting a healthier cookie and care human. Her performance of late has been decidedly less than satisfactory. Where is the best place to find healthy cookie and care humans? Should I have a new prospect vet checked before committing?

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

So Mother, in her joy over completing her Calculus exam this evening, celebrated. NOT by coming up to see me, but by spending four hours making a cheesecake.

I don't even eat cheesecake.

Apparently, her work has a tradition where you bring in something for everyone when it is your birthday. Birthday? Mother is giving birth? That would explain why she's been so preoccupied by things other than me. But I haven't noticed that she looks gravid... also, I don't think humans really time those things. She has apparently precisely timed the cheesecake, as she says it needs to age a day, so Tuesday evening was the time to make it.

So once again, I am alone. Motherless. I'm not completely alone... there's Jeanie and Belle and the orangey-red one and Bert and my fat donkey. But for all intents and (COOKIE) purposes... alone.

Maybe she'll come visit me on her birthday! And maybe, she'll save me just a little piece of cheesecake...

*Pictured cheesecake is not the actual cheesecake. The actual cheesecake is still in the oven.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

I wish they had a "Follow your Mother to Work" day. I am most curious what she does that is more important than taking care of me. This is not the Mother I met in North Dakota. I want that Mother back. The Mother who taught me that grooming is pleasant, picking up your feet is safe and in fact allows for more comfort. Who taught me how to carry her around, and who would hand graze me and spend time with me and visit me every day.

These days, I hang out with Belle. Some of the others may join us for a while during the day, but mostly, it's me and Belle, and my fat donkey when he is done mooching inside and passes under Alcatraz to come mooch from us. The grass is trying to come up, so that is something to do, I suppose, but... I'm a bit bored 6 days out of seven.

A lot bored. I'm even boring myself writing this.

I'll try again tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe a... a something will... uh, will happen. Something has got to be more interesting than this.

From the beginning: My introduction

I am a fifteen year old horse named Boyfriend, sometimes Bif. Sometimes "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown". Sometimes names I really don't think bear repeating. After years of misappropriating mother's phone and email, I now have my own site.

All of the stuff under My Favorite Grazing Places and Mother's Favorite Sites are unpaid (why would I need money?), Mother just really likes them and likes to share. She can be a generous sort, at times...